The Countdown
by Biter-ZModz
Summary: John Watson is kidnapped by Moriarty. Moriarty wants John to submit to him, this is the account of the last 50 days with Jim Moriarty.
1. Days 1-5

Day 5

"Look at me!" he yelled. I continued to look away, which was hard, considering his steel blue eyes that bore my sole, his perfect-cut features, his smooth voice. I could smell his cologne, feel his breath, my heart pounding.

"No," I said barely above a whisper. His anger melted, and he stood up again.

"Very well, if that's how you're going to be, _John_ ," he answered. Without another word, he left the cage, leaving me chained to the chair. The stone basement was cold under my bare feet, and the whole atmosphere of the place chilled me.

I heard his steps retreating up the steps until I faded into sleep.

Day 4

Jim grabbed me by the hair, which had, for the most part, had been pulled out already, and dragged me to the cold basement of the bombed church. There was a steel chair with handcuffs on both sides waiting for me.

"Charming, Jim," I muttered. He yanked my hair again, pulling another handful out and letting it fall to the floor.

"Careful what you say, John," he said in a sing-song voice. "I might just… eat you up." He laughed. His laughter was smooth, almost flirtatious. I saw the last few steps just before being pushed. I fell flat on my face, and felt a trickle of blood come from my nose. My lip swelled up, as I tried to breath after getting the wind knocked out of me. My chest ached for Sherlock, and I wondered if he was okay. I couldn't count the number of days it'd been since I'd last saw him. Shit, here I was worrying again.

" _John-"_

" _No, Sherlock, you get yourself into way too much trouble all the time! You are sitting here for an hour before you go wandering off again, getting high, or solving a case-"_

" _John." He took me by the shoulders. "Stop worrying. Never worry."_

And here I was. Disobeying. I felt like a child, but I liked it. It made me feel safe.

"Sit." Jim told me. I obeyed. I felt the cold metal cut into my wrists and I winced. When I did, I felt Jim give me a small kiss on the cheek. I froze, not knowing what to think. Shouldn't I be used to this by now? He kissed me at least once a day. I had to admit, he wasn't as rough as Sherlock, but that was because he didn't love me as much. Right?

Not knowing what to do, I kept my eyes locked on the wall ahead of me, breathing as slowly as I could.

"Don't think I won't be back," Jim said, leaving the room. All the way up the steps, I heard him chuckling.

Day 3

I woke up in the back of the car, where we left off last night. It was all a daze, the kissing, the biting, the raping. I still hurt. I gathered whatever clothing I had left, and dressed. Jim was nowhere in sight, so I left the car and began walking. We had parked in some remote place, where the grassy cliff drops off to the sea, kinda like Jim's love, or was lust a better word? He'd tell me that he loved me, after what happened with Sherlock. Then, well, I guess the past is the past. I needed to look forward to new possibilities.

"John!" Jim called from behind me a ways. "Good morning!" He was approaching the car as though he'd just come back from a walk.

"Yeah, thought I'd wake up." I thought long about what I'd say next. "Uh, about last night-"

"Did, did I hurt you, love?" He acted so concerned.

"No, just… well, you know I've been a bit touchy since-"

"Right," Jim said, nodding. "I'm sorry." He slowly touched the side of my face. "You love me, right?" He said, his brows furrowed.

I didn't know what to say. He was there every time Sherlock wasn't. He cheered me up when Sherlock left the flat in a rage. Did I love him?

After a moment of silence, Jim turned away. I didn't answer him. I didn't want to.

"Very well, John. You don't have to love me-"

"No, Jim, it's not like that-"  
"Yes, John, it is. Don't worry about it, love, uh, I mean, John. Sorry." He got in the car and started the engine. Reluctantly, I got in the car and the silent drive began.

"Where are we going Jim?" No answer. "Jim ,can you please tell me where -"  
"Just shut up, John!" Jim yelled.

"Look, I'm sorry that I disappointed you, honestly, but you don't need to react like a…" I didn't finish my sentence. I'd done enough already.

"Like a _what_ , John?"

"No, no, don't… I don't wanna cause more trouble." I looked out the window, wondering how Sherlock was doing. I pushed the thought away. He left, and if he was in trouble, he'd call me right?

Day 2

We drove for some time, deeper into… nowhere. All I knew was Jim seemed like he knew where he was going. I could see the ocean on my side of the window. It was so calm. How could I be so raging mad when the largest body of water was so calm?

"Don't worry," it seemed to say in Sherlock's voice. A warm feeling ran through my body.

"Don't worry," Jim said, placing a hand on my leg. He looked at me with those damned gentle brown eyes. I shivered. A guttural feeling turned into panic. I knew what that panicky feeling meant: I had to get away. This wasn't me going along with him, this was a kidnapping. I quietly unbuckled my seat belt.

"What? Where are you going?!" cried Jim, slightly swerving as he turned to look at me.

"No!" I said. "Shut. _Up_. You persuaded me to go with you, then you won't tell me where-."

"Church!" he yelled. His eyes were no longer gentle. They were controlling.

Day 1

The city was killing me. The endless noise, the traffic, the ever-blinding lights. All of it. Sherlock sat on the couch, on my laptop, again.

Are you ever off that blasted thing?" I asked him.

"You ask as I read your latest blog," Sherlock responded. "How do you ever have time to type all this? Three web pages long! Why?" He looked at me. "How?"

I chuckled as I sat next to him.

"I'm, ah, talented?"

"Yes, you are," She lock said, placing an arm around me.

"So, what's on the great detective's mind, now?" I asked.

"I'm so… sorry," he said, a sad look forming in this blue eyes.

"Why? For what? I'll always forgive you, you know."

"And I'll always love you."

"And you're sorry for that? I don't quite understand..."

"I don't know how to put it…"

"Sherlock, what's going on?" I said, sitting up and looking him int the eyes. Something about those eyes told me that this was serious.

"Look, I've never been perfect," he said, standing up.

"So? We're all human."

"I- had, uh, look, John, I had a… person… approach me-"

"Sherlock! What. Has. Happened?"

"A woman, John! She was tall, blonde, with brown eyes, very sensual… and, well…."

"You had sex?"

Shelock looked at the ground, nodding.

"Anything else?"

"I'm a father."

"How long?" I whispered, my face in my hands.

"Two months, now."

I felt like crying. Just moments ago, everything had been so perfect… and now, nothing was. I stood up, furious. Sherlock backed away, seeing my anger. My fists balled and before moments passed, a bruise was forming over Sherlock's left eye.

"Why?!" I yelled, landing one on his cheekbone. I swore I heard something crack.

"John, I didn't-"

"Don't lie to me! You did!"

"No, I didn't want her! She-"

"Shut up!" I screamed. Then, something snapped inside Sherlock. He swiftly grabbed my wrists and shoved me against a wall.

"No," he said barely above a whisper. " _You_ shut up." He dragged me to his room and pushed me to the bed. I stumbled, landing on my back. Sherlock got on the bed, straddling me. He tore my shirt off before tearing at my trousers. With him no longer on my abdomen, it was easier to kick. I got away from him and quickly redressed, staring him in the eye as he lay on the floor. The next few moments were a blur. I hailed a cab, got to a greasy-arse bar, and ordered a smallish drink. After staring at the glass, contemplating weather or not to drink it, I took a small sip.

"This salted?" I asked, cringing.

"No," said the man sitting next to me. "You've been crying into it." He seemed familiar, but I couldn't place it, nor did I care to. I spilled out my story, sobbing and not caring what anyone thought. I loved Sherlock, and now…

"I'm so sorry, John," Jim Moriarty said.


	2. Day 5-6

Jim and I talked, discussing our troubles over spiced rum and beer, all the while, my feelings toward him growing less and less angry and frightened. When he wasn't being a terrorist with men to do his dirty work, Jim was quite an enjoyable character. He was actually humorous, or was that the rum?

"Le's get outta here," Jim slurred, after a few hours.

"Hmm?" I said, dazed and drunk.

"You 'n' me, we should go." He drunkenly placed a credit card on the counter and waited for the bartender to ring it up. After a moment, Jim had one hand on my shoulder, guiding me to his mint green, '50s Chevy.

"Green," I mumbled, almost falling over onto the pavement.

"W'ass'at?" Jim called from across the top of the car.

"Hmm? Oh, green."

"Right." Jim got in the car, and turned the engine over. After a bit of stalling, the car decided to run and a deep rumbling sound came from under the hood. I stood there, my head resting on the car, my tummy in a knot.

"Coming, John?"

"Yeah, I just gotta-" My words stopped, and I vomited on the sidewalk, nearly falling over.

Getting into the car, I realized just how exhausted I really was. I fell asleep the Jim's humming and the rumble of the Chevy.

Jim shook me awake about two ours later.

"Hmm?" I inquired.

"Let's,… get in the back."

"Nah, I'm tired Jim," I said, rolling over.

"C'mon, we both know what you desire."

I looked him in the eye. He had such loving brown eyes, seductive. Smiling, I slowly climbed in the backseat. The rest, I guess, is history.

\- NOTE - THE STORY HAS NOW BEGUN TO MOVE FORWARD IN JOHNS POV

Day 5

When hunger had taken it's toll, all I could do was dry-heave. My stomach was in a sickly knot, and it wasn't gonna get better anytime soon. My mind, my life, what I thought was life, had been taken away. I pulled against the handcuffs, feeling layers of my flesh begin to turn raw. I was too faint. I finally blacked out, for who knows haw long. The next thing I knew, though, my head was being pulled by the back of my hair, and Jim's minty breath on my face.

"Love," he whispered. He looked so loving, so kind.

"No, I only answer to Sherlock!" I fought my sensual emotions toward him.

"The cheater?! That bastard! And you still love him?" Jim chuckled.

I'd seem to have forgotten what he did, or just didn't care. I hoped it was the latter.

"Only he calls me-"

"Calls you love?"

"Yeah." I closed my eyes, hoping Jim would leave. Instead, he yanked my hair harder.

"Well, now you'll answer to me," he said before turning away. Closing my eyes once more, I drifted into a deep sleep, hoping that this was all a dream.

Day 6

The sun had not yet risen when a mob of voices startled me awake. Opening my eyes, I saw three teenaged kids coming into the church basement.

"Hey, hand me another!" one said. "I'm getting close to halfway here!" He laughed loudly. Obviously, none of then knew I was here.

"No," said a girl, the only female of the three. "You'll puke!"

"Parker's right, dude. Charlie, you'll kill yourself!" said the third, taking a huge hit off a joint.

"Come on, Park!" yelled Charlie. "Morris?"

"Hmm?" Morris answered, blowing smoke. Charlie was looking at my oddly.

"There's a dude." All six eyes were glued to me. "You follow us 'ere?"

"No," I answered. "I've been here for a few days, now."

"Days?" Parker said. "Without food or water, that's hard to believe."

"I know, but I believe it," I said, smiling. I didn't want them to find out why I was here.

"'Cuz you're a liar," mumbled Morris, taking another hit.

"No, I'm not lying."

"Then why don't you leave?" said Charlie, loudly.

I looked around. "Dunno, I like it here."

"No, you lied again!" yelled Charlie.

"Are you always this obnoxious?" I asked.


	3. Day 7

Day 7

When the sun had fully risen, I heard the familiar sound of a 1950's Chevy pull up to the church. Jim came out, whistling the Rolling Stones' hit, "Satisfaction".

"Love!" He called as he came down the steps. "You hungry? You'll never believe what happened! Early this morning, I was walking around town you know, running errands, and I overheard three teenaged kids talking."

"Shit," I muttered.

"Say something?" Jim sad, getting close to my face.

"M-my wrists hurt," I lied.

"They were talking about 'the bombed church' and 'the dude who was cuffed to the chair' and 'Who is Jim anyway?' and 'Why didn't he allow us to help him?' Do you have any idea what they were talking about, _John_?"

"Hmm?" I pretended I wasn't listening. "No, no one was down here, just the mice." I smiled, despite the burning hunger in my abdomen.

"Funny," Jim said. "I was sure they were talking about you."

 _Good,_ I thought. _He didn't kill them I don't think._

"I killed them anyways. Charlie, the loud one, didn't make a sound when the knife slit his thin little throat." Jim smiled. "Well, I'm bored now, and my helper is in jail for killing three kids, so I gotta bail him out." Turning, Jim began whistling once more, this time the guitar lead to "Let the Bodies Hit the Floor". "I'll get you something to eat, okay love?" Jim said laughing.

About an hour later, Jim returned holding a bag of something. He approached me, and pulled an old apple from the bag. Getting a little too close to my face he whispered "Say 'ah'." Defiantly, I stared him down, keeping my lips pressed together. That apparently frustrated him, for the then threw the bag to the floor, causing the mice to scurry a bit, then harshly kissed me. I was barely able to pull away.

"Why, John?" he said, a bit out of breath. "Do you not _love_ me enough? Can you not tell that I love you?"

"Love me?" I said, ragingly quiet. "You rape me, you chain me up, and you don't feed me. You kill the people who tried helping me, and that's love? No, I can't see your love, and I can't love you."

Jim crushed a scattering mouse in a quick motion, to show he was upset.

"Well then," he said. "I guess you don't know the meaning of tough love." He made his way back to the steps. "I have an appointment with an old friend, I'll be back, uh, soon-ish."

"Tough love?! Jim!" I called, but was ignored. "Jim, listen to me! I have only loved once, and I will never love again! Sherlock!" I began to cry. "Help," I whispered, tears forming streams down my face.

That night, a silhouette formed on the stairs. Moving my weary eyes to it, I realized I had no idea who it was. The body shape was like Jim, but this man was smoking a pipe. Jim didn't smoke. He chewed gum to keep himself from smoking. The man pressed his ear to the wall, listening to the skittering of mice.

"Enjoying your hungry company?" he asked in a raspy tone. The way he talked was like Jim, but his voice was far from Jim's.

"Who are you?" I asked him.

"That, my man, doesn't matter."

"It matters to me," I said.

"And why is that?"

"Well, if you're gonna kill me, I want to know who's weapon did the job."

The man laughed, a smoker's laugh.

"Who said I'd _kill_ you? That wouldn't be fun. No," he said getting closer. "I'm gonna burn you." Everything went silent. It seemed as though even the mice were too scared to move.

"Who are you?"

"I am your every nightmare," the man said, holding a chloroform handkerchief to my nose and mouth, causing me to black out. His words never left me, even as I slept.


	4. NOTE TO READERS

NOTE TO READERS

I am so sorry for the yearlong delay ;( Its been weirdly insane and if you are still wanting more of this. Inbox me and I can upload the next part I have actually completed! Thank you. Also I have other fandom accounts ;)


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